The Soldier
by Avrel the Teller
Summary: Nathaniel Harris was just a simple soldier. He knew he was fighting for his country. He just never knew how close that country actually was. War of 1812 fic.
1. Chapter 1

Nobody was surprised when war was declared on Great Britain.

I'm sure everyone could see it coming. They were impressing our soldiers, blocking our trade with France. No one in their right mind could stand for it. So when June 18 rolled around and the official declaration of war was issued, well, we were more than ready.

It was a beautiful summer day in Philadelphia. The sky was a light shade of blue, and there was a slight breeze. It was the perfect day for a send-off as several hundred people stood crowded in Philadelphia's center. I could hear the farewells, see the embraces and the sad smiles. The promises of return, the declarations of victory, from the young men of the militia.

I stood beside my closest friend, William Stone, as we stood with our families. He was just pulling back from an embrace with his wife Lydia, a petite woman with light blond hair and green eyes. "Please be careful," she said.

William grinned widely. "Don't worry. I've got the big, strong Nathaniel to look after me."

I frowned in annoyance as William looked down at me, a mischievous light dancing in his dark brown eyes. He wasn't that much taller than me, maybe a little less than half a head, but ever since he'd had that growth spurt back when we were sixteen, he had never stopped gloating about finally being taller than me. "Stop that."

He just smirked before turning his attention back to Lydia, talking animatedly about something that I immediately tuned out so I could focus on my own family. Gathered around me were my parents and my younger brother, David. David was seventeen, a full eight years younger than me, but we'd always gotten along well. Sure, there were the occasional fights, but all siblings fought.

David stood about an inch shorter than me. His hair was a dark brown, much darker than mine, but his eyes were the same shade of gray as mine. Our parents both had brown hair as well, though our mother had blue eyes rather than the gray eyes the rest of us had.

"You're going to need to do a lot more work at the shop now," I reminded David.

"I know."

"Remember to check the inventory twice a week."

"I know."

"And make sure to help Dad—"

"Nathaniel!" David interrupted. "You've told me this about ten times now. I know."

I smiled. "Sorry, David. Just wanted to make sure."

He smiled back. "It's fine. Just worry about yourself, okay?"

I nodded, but before I could say anything else, my captain, a man in his mid-thirties by the name of Ryan Johnson, began calling the militia to form up. I quickly gave a few last hugs to David and my parents, and beside me William was doing the same with Lydia and his father. I picked up my knapsack and musket, which I had placed on the ground beside me while talking with my family, and William and I walked together with the rest of the men as we prepared to leave.

* * *

On the second night of our travel north, after we had stopped our march for the day, William and I set up our camp in the first spot we could find. Around us, other soldiers were doing the same, everyone too tired to do anything but set up camp and wait for dinner.

As soon as I finished setting up my tent, I lay flat on my back and folded my hands behind my head, quietly sighing and closing my eyes. I could hear William doing the same beside me. Marching for several hours straight took a lot out of a person. It wasn't like I was physically unfit, but I wasn't used to it, and neither were the other members of the militia. I would probably get used to it after a few days, but for now, even the uneven ground I was laying on felt like the most comfortable bed in the world.

After a few minutes, I heard someone clearing their throat, and I opened my eyes to see a young boy who couldn't have been any older than eighteen standing in front of us. He was tall, definitely taller than me, with sandy blond hair and the brightest blue eyes that I have ever seen.

I pushed myself to a sitting position. "Can we help you?"

The boy grinned easily. "I was wondering, do you want to camp together tonight? I want to meet as many people here as I can, you know, since we're fighting together."

I stared at him, a little bemused. "Don't you have any friends or family to camp with?"

He shook his head. "I came alone."

I shrugged and gestured to an empty spot beside my tent. "Go ahead, then."

"Great! Thanks!" the boy said, crouching down to begin setting up his tent. "I'm Alfred F. Jones, by the way. What are your names?"

"Nathaniel Harris," I said. I glanced at William, who hadn't even bothered to even open his eyes. "And this is William Stone." I nudged William in the side. He groaned and swatted at my hand, but I continued pushing him. "Will, be polite and say hi."

"Leave me 'lone," William mumbled. "'M tired."

"So am I, and I'm sure Alfred is as well. Now say hi."

William opened one eye and glared at me before finally sitting up, grumbling under his breath. "Fine, fine, hello. Are you happy now?"

"Yes. You can go back to sleep now."

But William shook his head. "I'm up now. I might as well just wait for dinner." He grinned across at Alfred, who was still setting up his tent. "Are you from Philadelphia, too? I've never seen you around before."

"I just moved there a few months ago," Alfred explained.

"Why?" I asked. "Don't you miss being with your family?"

Alfred shrugged. "Let's just say that I don't get along with my family and leave it at that, okay?"

William and I glanced at each other but said nothing more on the subject. "So what does the F in your name stand for, anyway?" I asked, moving away from the topic.

Alfred paused in his work, frowning. Then he shrugged, the grin reappearing on his face. "No idea! It just makes my name sound better. Don't you agree?"

"…Sure," I said hesitantly, sharing an incredulous look with William. This boy was definitely more than a little strange.

The three of us didn't say anything more until we were called for dinner, and after that the only thing any of us could think of was sleep. William, Alfred, and I had just enough energy to bid each other good-night before crawling into our tents. I fell asleep as soon as I lay down, not even giving another thought to this strange boy.


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred didn't camp with us every night. Like he said, he was trying to get to know the other men. Whenever I saw him, he was with one or two or three other people, talking and laughing as if they were old friends.

I wasn't bothered by this, though. I mean, it's not like Alfred had some sort of obligation to me. I was just one man among many. There really was no reason for him to take a special interest in me.

It was about another week and a half before Alfred joined me and William. By then, we were starting to become more used to the march. Sure, we were still tired by the end of the day, and sleeping on the ground wasn't nearly as comfortable as sleeping in a nice warm bed, but it wasn't awful.

Alfred trotted over to us as we set up our tents, his ever-present grin on his face. I'd noticed that he always seemed full of energy, whether it was early in the morning or late at night. I often wondered about this, about how he could march for several hours a day and still look like he was ready to take on the entire British Empire single-handedly, but I always figured that it must have been his youth, or maybe that he was naturally athletic.

Alfred placed his bag and rifle on the ground next to me and began setting up his own tent. "Hey! How's it been going?"

William shot him a tired smile. "It's been alright. Could be nicer, but who's complaining?"

"You are," I muttered, sitting back as I finished setting up my tent. "If you're not complaining about how hard the ground is or how there was a rock poking into your back all night, you're moaning about how much you miss Lydia."

"Hey!" William protested, an injured look on his face. "I don't complain about everything!"

"No, but you complain about the same things over and over."

Alfred looked from me to William. Finally, he asked, "Who's Lydia?"

William smiled. "Lydia's my wife."

"You have a wife?" Alfred asked. He crawled closer to us, his tent only half set up. "What's she like?"

William leaned back on his hands and stared up at the sky. His eyes had that faraway look that they got whenever he was thinking about Lydia. "Lydia…She's just a wonderful woman. She's sweet, and kind, and funny, and…perfect, I guess."

"Do you have any kids yet?" Alfred asked.

William laughed and shook his head. "Not yet. We were trying, but then the war started. But who knows? Maybe I'll go back home to a baby."

Alfred's eyes were shining. He turned to me excitedly. "Are you married, too?"

I shook my head. "Not yet."

William sighed dramatically and draped an arm around my shoulders. "It's a tragedy, Alfred! I fear he's doomed to remain a bachelor his whole life."

I glared at William while Alfred started snickering. "You're hilarious," I said. "A true comedian."

"See, this is why you're not married," William said, wagging a finger in my face. "You're much too serious about everything."

"That's not true!" I protested. "I just haven't found the right person yet."

"That's what they all say," William replied, smirking.

I rolled my eyes and pushed William's arm off my shoulder. "If that's what you want to think," I said.

William laughed before turning to Alfred. "What about you, Al? Got anyone special waiting for you?"

Alfred smiled and shook his head. "Nope. I, ah, haven't been in Philadelphia long enough."

"What about back in…Uh, where are you from, anyway?" William asked.

"I'm from Boston," Alfred replied.

"Boston, right. So was there anyone there?"

Alfred just shook his head again. "Nope, no one."

I stared at him for a few moments. Finally, I decided to ask him something I'd been wondering about for a while. "Alfred, why did you move to Philadelphia, anyway?"

Alfred stared at me, a slight frown on his face. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you just seem…really young to want to move so far away," I explained. "I mean, you look like you can't be any older than eighteen. Why would you leave your family and the city you grew up in?"

Alfred didn't say anything. He stared at the ground, at the tents, at his hands, at everything but me. He fidgeted, cleared his throat, then finally said, "There were just too many memories there."

"Bad memories?" I asked.

Alfred nodded slowly. "When I grew up, it was just me and my older brother. Everything was fine when we were younger, but…I started getting a little…rebellious when I got older, I suppose. We didn't agree on a lot of things, and he was making too many decisions for me, so I just…left."

"Don't you have any other family members you could have gone to?" William asked.

"No," Alfred replied. "It was just me and Eng – Arthur."

I frowned. Eng? What was that supposed to mean? I glanced sideways at William, but he didn't seem to notice anything off. Just as I decided to ask about it, though, Alfred turned back to his tent and finished setting it up. "So, when's dinner?" he asked. "I'm starving!"

He had changed the subject deliberately. I was almost sure of that. But I was also sure that I wouldn't be getting any more information out of him, and I was right. As soon as we'd had our meal, Alfred bid us good-night and crawled into his tent, and the next morning he packed up his gear before I could completely wake up.

"I'll see you two later!" he said hastily, and I only had time to raise a hand in farewell before he ran off, catching up to another soldier and talking to him earnestly.

"There's something he's not telling us," I murmured to William.

William yawned before replying. "Well, what do you expect? I wouldn't want to tell someone I had just met my entire life story either."

"I suppose you're right," I said, mostly to placate him. But I still wasn't convinced, and I was going to find out more about Alfred, no matter what.


End file.
